Confession and Contrition

During one of the recent wind storms I had a piece of fiberglass wiggle roofing break off from a roof over my firewood shed. I picked up the fragment from the lawn and it reminded me of another wiggly piece of plastic from my past.

I don’t know how many of you are recovering Catholics out there, but I am and the piece of plastic I was reminded of was the opaque wiggly plastic piece with tiny holed drilled in it. This plastic shield was what kept one anonymous in the confessional of my youth.

Both my mother and my father were Catholic. My father never attended Church; so it was my mother who felt it was her duty to see to it that her children attend, though she was so cynical about it all. As you’ve been reading about my life and opinions over the past few months you can tell the nuts don’t fall far from the tree. I even went to Catholic School which is a funny story for another day.

Anyway, one of the rites of passage in the life of a Catholic youth is First Communion. However, in order for all these seven year old kids to enter the adult Catholic world with this sacrament, they need first to go to confess my sins to a priest.

A confessional is this booth that is divided into sections. One section houses a priest and on the other side of the wall is where the sinners go to kneel and beg for forgiveness for their transgressions. They speak with one another through a piece of opaque plastic with holes in it, or at least that was the way our confessionals looked.

I remember the Saturday of my first confession like it was yesterday. I had been instructed on the protocol of how to behave, and what I should say before and after my confession. My problem was that I was only seven years old, and I was a good kid who hadn’t sinned. The fact that I now had to go to confession every week after inspired me to become a sinner just to keep it all interesting.

Before going to church for my first confession my mother asked if I had anything to confess. I thought about it and in fear I told her that I had nothing to confess and asked what I was going to do? I couldn’t go to confession with nothing to offer. How could I receive penance if I didn’t offer my sins?

My mother came to my aid and said, “Tell the priest that you committed adultery five times.” I had no idea what adultery was, but if my Mother said that’s what I should do…I did it. I trusted her and was too young to understand her cynicism.

When we got home that evening my mother asked how the confession went. I told her I confess the adultery and received a penance of 5 Hail Marys and 5 Our Fathers. I got off easy; some of my other class mates were reciting their penance long after I was finished.
My parents howled with laughter. I didn’t get the joke until a year or so after that. I laughed as well and still do.